Twenty four

The loose swing of the jazz playing
The most wonderful tunes it pours out
Your soul's being penetrated
You feel the rays of dawn
You nearly cry and just yawn
With 24 more hours to go

The smell of old whisky in the bar while
Everybody's eyes drooping down
You have a tear in your eye
You nearly sob and just sigh
With 24 more hours to go

The only talking of the bar is outside
Where the crowds form of those who can't partake
In the purge of their depressive life
To these getting in there's no break

No 24 hours left for those who took the final breathe.